He asked me a great many questions about Christy and the robbery; and the conversation was only interrupted by our arrival at the Ucayga station, where the impatient passengers were waiting to continue their journey. I jumped off; the engine was shackled to the train again, and went on its way.
“Halloo, Wolf!” called the captain of the steamer to me. “Where is Christy?”
“I don’t know, sir. He jumped off the locomotive, and ran away into the woods.”
A crowd of people gathered around me to hear my story, for the facts of the robbery had been related by my father. I felt the pocket-book in my coat, and declined to answer any questions till I had seen my father. I was told he was on board of the steamer, and I hastened to find him. He was in the engine-room, where I had left him. He was still deadly pale, and seemed to have grown ten years older in a single hour.
“Where have you been, Wolf?” asked he, in a voice almost choking with emotion.
“I have been after Christy.”
“Did you catch him?” he asked, in a sepulchral tone.
“I was on the engine with him. Here is your pocket-book, father.”
He grasped it with convulsive energy, and seemed to grow young again in a moment. The crowd, most of whom were passengers in the steamer, gathered in the gangway, by the side of the engine-room, to learn the facts. In an excited manner I began to tell my story.
“What does he say? Speak louder, boy!” called the men behind me.